I rubbed my eyes and winced as I came into contact with my contusion. The heat of embarrassment rose to my face at the memory of how I got it, and I turned my hand over to smile at the number written on the back. I reached for the phone.
"Hello."
"Hi, it's Maddie."
"Hey, you get home?"
"Yep."
"How's the shiner?"
"Growing."
She giggled. "I'm sure it won't be too bad."
"I hope not," I mumbled.
"Don't worry about it. You're pretty enough most people won't notice."
I smiled slyly. "You think so?"
"Yep. Would you like to try and get together again for lunch?"
I considered. "How about dinner tomorrow night? I'll cook."
"Hmmm. What time?"
"Six okay?"
"I don't get off until six. The guy that works nights comes in then. Seven would be better."
"That's okay too. Want me to pick you up?"
"Nah, I'll get over there. I don't want to depend on you for a ride home if you make me mad."
I pulled the phone away from my face and stared it.
She laughed. "I was just kidding."
"Does that mean you need a ride or what?" I asked irritably.
"Don't get ugly," she scolded. "And no, I don't need a ride."
"Humph."
"Are you really going to cook for me?"
"Well, yeah. Did you think I was going to invite you over for dinner and then take you to McDonald's?"
A chuckle. "Cooking wasn't on the resume presented to me when I was being coerced into giving you a shot at dating me."
There were a lot of things in that sentence to be upset about, but I focused on the one that bothered me the most. "A resume!" I practically shouted, sitting up straight.
A musical cackle greeted me on the other end. "What can I say? You were a hard sell."
I fumed. "Tell me you're kidding."
"Okay," she snickered. "There wasn't a resume, but your lack of homemaking skills were brought to my attention."
I groaned. "Will you do me a favor?"
"Depends."
"Could you please cut down on the amount of information you give out? I'm picked on enough already."
"Aww, poor baby," she cooed. "They just love you."
"Uh huh. They're dreadful gossips and I'm tired of being a source of amusement for them."
"I'll see what I can do."
"I'd appreciate it."
"How much?" she asked quietly.
An eyebrow rose. "A lot."
"Hmmm. On that note, I think I should say goodnight."
"Killjoy."
"We'll see, bye Maddie."
"Bye."
I fell on to my back and stared at the ceiling, a warm, and very welcome sensation starting in my toes slowly working its way upward. I basked in it for as long as I could make it last. Finally, I rose with a sigh and made tracks for the box of files I'd gotten from Billy. It was time to become acquainted with the DiCarlo's.
II
I rose the next morning with a mission; I was dressed, armed, and ready for battle by nine. Why nine? Because trial lawyers didn't work before nine unless they had court, or there was someone to rape. I punched a number into the phone and waited through four rings.
"Merchant law office, may I help you?"
"This is Mary Martin with the DA's office. Is Larry in this morning?"
"Yes, Mary. He's in the office until eleven today. Would you like me to connect you?"
"No, thank you."
I disconnected and hurried out to the car. I was happy. It wasn't everyday I got to threaten a lawyer. I could tell I already hated him. Judging from what little I knew about him, I figured him for a complete asshole. The kind of hypocrite that preaches justice and the rule of law in public, but in actuality practiced greed, manipulation, treachery, and self-indulgence. In other words, your typical Democrat. He was probably a child molester to boot.
It took me almost thirty minutes to get across town and when I arrived, my opinion of the man only fell a little further. His offices could only be described as decadent. No doubt paid for by stepping on the necks of those he perceived beneath him. Which, in his opinion, was probably everybody. I parked the car on the street and walked briskly up the stairs to enter a snobbishly decorated lobby with two-inch thick maroon carpeting.
A secretary sitting behind an arrogant, polished mahogany desk glanced up and leveled an almost contemptuous look at me as I approached.
"May I help you?"
"I'd like to see Mr. Merchant, please."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Nope."
"I see. Mr. Merchant isn't in right now, but I can schedule an appointment for you if you'd like?"
I whipped out my ID. "I know he's here, and I won't take no for an answer."
She didn't even look at it. "Mr. Merchant is in court this morning. Would you like to make an appointment?"
"Mr. Merchant doesn't have court until eleven, and if you mention an appointment one more time, I'll break my foot off in your ass."
She was cool one. "I'm afraid I can't help you," she said, not missing a beat. "Mr. Merchant is in court."
"Hi, this is Mary Martin with the DA's office."
She glanced at me sharply.
"Can we cut through the bullshit now? Just take me to his office."
"I'll see if he'll admit you," she said, reaching out for the phone.
I reached across the desk and placed my hand on it before she got there. "It would be to your advantage to just show me the way."
"And why would that be to my advantage?"
I had to hand it to her, she was a tough cookie. "Because if I have to go looking by myself, I'll handcuff you to your chair."
She spent a few seconds studying me and finally rose to her feet. "Follow me, please."
"But, of course."
I trailed after her and pursed my lips; she had the hindquarters of a thoroughbred. Too bad she was only moderately attractive. My eyes strayed to take in my surroundings.
"You know, this place is shamelessly huge for just one guy."
"He's a very good attorney. You'll end up regretting this I'm sure."
"You must be sleeping with him."
She shot a poisonous look over her shoulder.
"That's what I thought," I said smugly.
I didn't get a response, but the sudden stiffness in her walk was all the satisfaction I needed.
We came to a halt a second later and she knocked on a huge set of double doors.
"Come."
I followed her into the office to confront a surprisingly handsome, well-built man standing in front of his desk reading through paperwork.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Merchant. This woman insisted on seeing you. Would you like me to phone the police?"
He walked around his desk with a practiced elegance and took up his chair. Studying me with interest before he spoke.
"I don't think that will be necessary. Thank you, Susan."
She gave me another look full of venom on her way out.
I found a seat in front of his desk and returned the scrutiny being directed at me. He sure wasn't hard to look at with dark, intelligent eyes and hair to match. He was pretty enough to be one of those Hollywood sissy boys.
"And you are?" he asked.
"Maddie Ledoux."
"How can I help you?"
"I'm a private detective and would like to hear all about your dealings with Tish Binkowski."
He smiled. "I don't know a Tish Binkowski and you know I can't discuss clients."
"You can and you will."
"Are you threatening me?"
"At this time, I'm just asking."
He leaned back in his chair and spoke condescendingly. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're way out of your league here. If you get up right now and leave this office, I'll pretend this never happened."
"And if I d
on't?"
"Don't force me into anything, Miss Ledoux. I'd like to think I'm a reasonable man."
"I'm reasonable too. I know you can't officially tell me what I want to know so I'll ask very nicely, just once, for you to share with me unofficially. Anything you tell me, will stay with me."
He lifted his eyebrows expectantly.
"Mr. Merchant, would you please share with me information regarding Tish Binkowski?"
A hand came up and he rested his chin on it in contemplation.
I crossed my legs, leaned back in my chair, and waited.
Finally, several minutes later, he raised his head. "No," he said with an evil little smile.
I stifled a chuckle. I kinda liked him. It was almost too bad. "Is that your final answer?"
"Yes, it is."
I rose to my feet. "Thank you for your time. Mr. Merchant."
"My pleasure, Miss Ledoux."
I strode from his office and made my way back to the lobby. Susan glared at me as I passed and shot me the finger. I grinned and ended up giggling all the way to the car. Under different circumstances, I could've almost liked her too.
When I sat down behind the wheel, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Joey's number.
"Yeah."
"Joey, it's Maddie."
"What's up, darlin'?"
"I need a favor."
"Name it."
"You know a Lawrence Merchant, Esquire?"
"Rings a bell. I can reacquaint myself quickly."
"I need a brace."
"I see. When?"
"As soon as possible."
"Stay by the phone. You'll get a call today."
"Thanks, Joey."
"Anytime. So, was I right?"
"Huh?"
"Anabel."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I guess I should thank you for that too."
"Yeah, you should," he rumbled, the sound of door chimes in the background. "Whoops, got to go."
"Okay, bye Joey."
"Bye bye."
I disconnected and dialed another number, one that I had a few misgivings about.
"Binkowski residence," Igor said.
"Sidney Binkowski, please. This is Maddie Ledoux."
"I'll get him," Igor said in a distasteful tone.
I waited a few minutes for Sidney to pick up.
"Miss Ledoux," he said tiredly.
"I'm sorry to bother you at such a bad time."
"I'll be at home all day, when can I expect you?"
"Within the hour."
"Very well."
He hung up without another word. The conversation had been more civil than I had expected and I couldn't help but think that this time, I'd get the straight dope.
----------
When I arrived at the Binkowski home, I was led back to the library where Sidney was waiting for me. The poor man was sprawled in a chair looking as if he'd spent a long night locked in a room avoiding buttsex with a three-legged man. He didn't speak and cast a tiredly expectant glare on me as the door closed behind Igor.
"I know this is a bad time. I'm sorry."
"What is it you wish to know?"
"You were married to Tish for four years. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"How long did you know each other before tying the knot?"
"About a year."
"Did you know what she did for a living?"
"Of course."
"Were you a customer?"
"I loved her. I tried to take her away from all of that."
"It looks like you succeeded."
He shrugged.
"Are you familiar with her criminal record?"
"She told me. They all took place before I knew her."
"You got her cleaned up?"
"Yes."
"She had a very expensive attorney. Any idea how she paid for that?"
"She had a benefactor."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But she was very afraid of whoever it was. I could never get her to talk about it."
"I see," I said, gesturing to a chair. "Would you mind?"
"Help yourself."
"Thank you," I said as I seated myself.
"It seems you have manners after all, Miss Ledoux."
"I know what it's like to lose someone so important."
He gave me a sad smile. "Of course. My apologies."
I nodded. "You told me you'd dealt with Sabrina DiCarlo. What did she look like?"
He took a deep breath and sighed. "I lied to you, Miss Ledoux. I never met Sabrina. My dealings with her were handled through an emissary."
"Why did you lie?"
"I mentioned it once to impress some people I was associating with. It was an impulsive lie. I had no idea it would attract as much attention as it did and word got around. I couldn't back away from it without losing face."
I spent a moment mulling that over in disappointment. "Are you aware of the real circumstances regarding the DiCarlo - Sirico vendetta?"
"Just rumor. You were right the first time we spoke. I'm a fraud. The mob uses me and I let them."
"You don't have to, Mr. Binkowski."
"Perhaps."
"Did you ever get the feeling that Tish was involved in Organized Crime?"
"I had at one time considered it, but I came to the conclusion she wasn't."
"Why?"
"Her…customers… treated her too badly. The mob wouldn't allow an asset, however lowly, to be treated with such disrespect. That and she wasn't a profitable enterprise."
I ran that back and forth a few times. He had a good point. Prostitution was either a money machine for the mob or it was ignored completely. They didn't waste time with low-profit ventures. What I couldn't figure was where the benefactor came in. There wasn't enough money there to justify getting Tish out of trouble unless someone else profited.
"Tish got a traffic ticket in Iowa last year. Were you with her?"
"No."
"What was she doing in Iowa by herself."
"She didn't tell me. We had a fight and she left for me for a little over a week. I don't know where she went."
"Does she have any family?"
"None that I know of. She told me they were all dead and was loathe to discuss it."
"Where was she born?"
"Her birth certificate said Detroit."
"She never told you?"
"There were many topics Tish avoided. I let her."
"Why?"
"I had the feeling they were painful to her. She didn't need to relive any bad memories. She had enough to deal with as it was."
Jesus. I could only imagine.
"You suspect the same person for both our losses, Miss Ledoux?"
"Yes, I do."
"There won't be an arrest will there?"
"No."
"You'll let me know afterward, won't you?"
I stared at him for a moment. "You'll get a Valentine in the mail."
"I'll be looking for it. Eagerly."
I rose to my feet. "May I have a photograph of Tish and a copy of her birth certificate, please?"
"Of course," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll just be moment."
He exited the room and I waited almost ten minutes for his return. He handed me the requested items silently and then offered me his hand. I shook it. The man's life had just been forever changed. I knew exactly what it felt like.
----------
I spent almost an hour driving around without a destination, contemplating my next move. I was a little tired; I had spent most of the night with the DiCarlo files. Regrettably, there was nothing I could glean from the information that could point me in a direction that I hadn't already considered. However, I did receive an education. The DiCarlos had been steadily going legitimate for years. Their portfolio, that which could be documented of course, was pretty fuckin' impressive. Oh, their hands were dirty, filthy dirty, but they excelled at covering their tracks, so good in fact, that their involvement in most
enterprises was speculation at best.
Joey had been right; the DiCarlo assets were vast. Larger by leaps and bounds than Sirico's and integrated throughout a surprising portion of the country. It was nothing short of a miracle they managed to disappear so rapidly and so thoroughly. My instincts told me that vanishing was something that they had practiced and had for some reason planned to do even before the blow up with Sirico. Why? I didn't know. I could only assume the incident with Danny and Sabrina had forced Salvatore’s hand and he forged ahead. But again, why?
DiCarlo outnumbered Sirico almost four to one. In a turf war, those kind of numbers virtually guaranteed victory. I could only figure that the potential cost was too high. Sal had a daughter to consider. A daughter personally marked by his rival. In a vendetta, Sabrina would be principle target number two after DiCarlo himself. In my estimation, he sacrificed himself to buy time for his daughter and the family's clean transition into anonymity. If that were indeed the case, those beneath him would be fanatically loyal. Apparently, they were. It had been almost seven years and still not a peep.
The big question. Did Gus get too close? If so, was he removed because of it? I had a hard time buying into the latter. Gus wasn't family, but at the same time, he was. Gus diligently ignored Organized Crime. He didn't want to get wrapped up in a conflict of loyalties. Everyone knew this and they respected him for it. That in itself told me DiCarlo would've known this as well. You don't successfully compete with a rival unless you're familiar with all the players. Removing Gus would serve no purpose. He would never put the pinch on family, rivals or no. Of course, that led me to wonder as to what exactly Gus had been looking into and why he kept it such a big secret. And where in the hell did Tish come in? Hopefully, my impending visit with Larry Merchant would shed some light on the subject.
My cell phone jarred me out of my deliberations and I answered it immediately.
"Ledoux."
"Hi, Maddie. It's Sarah."
I was delighted. I was beginning to wonder if I would hear from her again. "Hi!"
"I'm sorry I haven't called before now. I've had my hands full at work."
"That's okay. I'm just glad you called."
"Glad enough to meet me for lunch on short notice?"
"You bet. I'm just sort of wandering around."
Stories by Kiera Dellacroix Page 87